History tinted glasses...

I will admit very readily that a year ago, well, o.k a month ago - if you’d asked me what I thought about my town, my answer would have been along the lines of: “It’s claustrophobic, you can’t meet anyone without already having a mutual friend, and there really is only a total of 3 tourist attractions, one of which is a cinema.”

However, to stave off the boredom of being ‘between jobs’, I have been volunteering on a “Joining up our Heritage” project with the local records office. I did it not because I had a particular interest in the history of where I live, as the previous paragraph would suggest, but mostly because I love dusty, old documents, (even if they are just lists of sheep and cattle numbers from a farm in the 1720's) and nosing through old photos and postcards.

That, however, has now changed! I suddenly have a new passion for the place I have been itching to get out of for the past 7 years. For example, my parents own a business (I live in the flat on top, so although I have moved out of the family home I'm still expected to run errands etc. *grumble*) and part of the property is a building opposite, that is used for storage. In the course of this project, I’ve been contacting local residents of, erm, a ‘certain age’, to ask them about their memories of the village. I hope to write more on this later. Anyway, within 2 minutes Jean, a lovely lady who knitted me baby clothes and didn't believe me when I told her who I was, then asked me if this was a school project (thank goodness I still look young enough to be sixteen - quarter life crisis averted) casually mentioned that the building was used as a Winery, from the vineyards that used to be in the fields behind her house. Now, Sidlesham is not exactly a bustling sort of village anymore, but as she went on to talk about the butchers, blacksmiths and post office (1 of 2!), all in the surrounding buildings of the Garage and her house, I got a glimpse of the sort of place Sidlesham once was. I walked over to the Winery, and, for the first time, after seeing that building almost every day for 23 years, noticed one smashed wine bottle in the mortar right across the outside wall of the building, perhaps to bring luck or prosperity in that particular endeavour. My dad wasn't aware of this either, and almost didn't believe me at first, until I showed him the mortar and he remembered there is a house down the road called 'The Vineyard'.

It sounds like a small thing, but knowing that a building I have known about my whole life had a ‘secret’ like that; made me realise that there were probably hundreds of other things I didn't know about the place I was born. These past weeks I have found old maps that show huge ponds and wells, that are now just bits of field behind my house that flood in the rain, and roads, with names, that are now just overgrown footpaths.
I have donned my History-tinted glasses -seeing my village come alive for me with clues to it's past, and tramped about the footpaths looking for old barns shown on the 1840 tithe map (the centre of the project), and had a Barn Owl swoop silently and beautifully past my head out of one, and a pigeon scare the crap out of me as it flapped not so silently out of another, particularly creepy one.

I am now desperate to record what history I can from this area, before it is lost. It is surprising, or perhaps not surprising but annoying, that the elderly people of the village seem reluctant to share memories, like they fear they will be 'exposed' or will lose something. There is, unfortunately, an air of “Are you Local?” about it all. A man who moved here 5 years ago asked another lady if she was also a ‘New’ resident of Sidlesham. “Oh, yes,” she replied “I’ve only been here for 17 years.”!
Yet I am hoping I will find others like Jean, who are willing to share the knowledge they have that will otherwise become lost. It is unthinkable to me, that people could throw out old photos or diaries that belonged to a member of their family or someone they know, but it happens. Perhaps it is because my own family did not have anything to leave, except a handful of old, blurry photos, that I covet these things. I often buy old photographs I find in antique shops, not any old photo, but pictures of young couples, smiling and happy (see attached), or photos that have information like "Grandad at work in the war 1942" or "Jack's first fiance" followed by a poem, written on the back. One lady has given us 21(!) diaries that she kept all through the war, as a Land army girl, and beyond, and details that probably seemed boring, or everyday details to her, like the day that Jam rationing started, are now fascinating to all of us that are transcribing it. In fact, when people say that the daylight saving is for farmers, I now must question it, as her diary states that the farm she worked on stuck to the old time - they split who's watch was on what time, and she left for work at 7.45 and arrived at 7! So it seems that not all farmers enjoy the change either! These are items that give us a glimpse into REAL social history: Would you want the time you lived in to be defined by the newspapers of today and a handful of historians or aristocratic individuals who write down their view of current issues? Of course, we won't have that problem, everyone has a blog, a facebook page, hundreds of photos of every night out and special occasion. Even just 50 years ago, this was not the case, and I hope that I will do my bit to help preserve at least the history of the people of my little village in West Sussex. And maybe some others if I get the time, but we'll see – as it is I still have 7 people to hunt down and interview, 600 photos to go through and scan, and 14 diaries left to help transcribe...